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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434294">Step One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliusP/pseuds/JuliusP'>JuliusP</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>12 Steps [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Three Days Grace (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Gen, Recovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:29:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliusP/pseuds/JuliusP</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam ponders his addiction, his relationships with others, and the possibility of recovery during a walk through the forest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>12 Steps [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Step One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This evening was, so far, the quietest one Adam had enjoyed in a while.  There was no loud trance bassline bursting his eardrums, no flashing neon lights blinding him, and no liquor burning his throat.  He listened to dance music every night, but now that he thought about it, he couldn’t name a single song he liked.  That had never really been his style.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harsh rhythmic beats were replaced with the melodies of songbirds, his usual surroundings replaced with old oaks that towered over him, putting him in his place – he was taller than most everyone he encountered, and it was rare for anything to remind him how small he really was.  The lofty trees were adorned in their autumn attire, proudly wearing vibrant shades of orange and yellow.  They almost looked too beautiful to be intimidating.  The dirt path in front of him was lazily cleared by someone who had ventured out in the forest before him, a slew of multi-colored foliage shoved to the sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His footsteps echoed as he navigated the forest floor, reminding him that there was no one here but him – aside from the chatty sparrows and woodpeckers, Adam was </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He did not remember the last time he was truly alone.  He sometimes </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> alone when he was out dancing, his body covered in sweat, exchanging body heat with what seemed like a million other nameless silhouettes…but even if these beautiful strangers weren’t his friends during his nights out, at least the prescription bottles on his nightstand were.  With them, he was never on his own.  These friends were the ones who pushed him to work up the courage to dance in the first place.  They were the ones who pressured him into taking another swig of vodka, another shot, another pill he didn’t know the name of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The absence of strobe lights and a deafening bassline was perhaps more overwhelming than the parties themselves.  He didn’t have to ponder his worries at the club; he drowned them in booze, and the music was so loud he couldn’t hear himself think.  This forest was different.  The forest was still.  Here, his thoughts raced, repeating themselves incessantly, in stark contrast to his tranquil surroundings.  Feeling trapped in his own mind, he wished he could cover his ears and make it all go away for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When does it end?  Has it really been two years of this shit?  How much have I spent?  I don’t even remember how much I spent </span>
  </em>
  <span>last night</span>
  <em>
    <span>…  When was the last night I wasn’t high?...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When the fuck was it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts quickly became more panicked; reflecting on his decisions opened the floodgates in his mind, and realizations were crashing upon him all at once.  Questions of his sanity and his morality consumed him.   He had managed to prevent a breakdown for </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> – why was this little outing the one to push him over the edge?  Why had this done him in?  He needed to take a moment to sit down and cool off. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know I can remember the last time I was sober.  I know it hasn’t been that long.  Did I take any that one night?  Who was I with?... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>After pushing through some thick underbrush lingering on his path, he reached a clearing.  Perfect.  He could take a break and clear his mind here.  Trees formed a rugged circle around the glade, and a fallen log a few steps away looked sturdy enough to sit on.  He hesitantly took a seat, feeling the log bow every so slightly beneath his weight.  It was rotting, but still strong enough to support him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt small once again beneath the trees that hugged the spot where he sat.  The air was perfectly cool and brisk; the slightly chilly breeze made him feel alive.  The sky was painted with brilliant reds and oranges, the perfect backdrop for yellow and orange leaves swaying in their final dance as they fell to the earth.  He took a moment to stare up at them, appreciating this moment of solace despite his unwanted thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam realized that he didn’t remember the last time he’d seen something so gorgeous.  He hadn’t taken any time to appreciate the beauty of life in forever.  He spent time doing things that were fun in the moment, taking whatever pills were handed to him and drinking until dawn…but he never did the things that </span>
  <em>
    <span>mattered</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  The world was out there waiting for him, still spinning with every sip he took, every pill he popped.  The sun set like this every night, but he didn’t remember the last time he’d seen it.  He never spent time with the ones he loved, and he never told them how much he loved them.  He never told them he’d be there for them no matter what.  He never took care of himself.  He never did things he truly enjoyed.  He never watched the sunset. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath and did the only thing he could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wept so only the birds could hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wept for the few he loved, the ones who had stood by him and tolerated every second of his drunken tirades and aggressive comments he made while high.  He wept for those who took care of him when he didn’t deserve it.  He wept for his true friends, the ones who begged him not to go out so much and told him they were worried about him.  He wept for the years he’d lost, the time gone, the hours he should’ve spent laughing with his wife, making memories actually worth remembering.  He wept for the sunsets he’d missed, for the moments he’d wasted and could never get back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wept because he knew something had to change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood and brushed himself off, turning toward the tangerine sky to give it a final, teary-eyed glance.  The day was over.  It was his first day sober in as long as he could remember, but it wouldn’t be his last.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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